The Verdict
by perfectpro
Summary: Inside the mind of a clinically insane girl.


Run, her voice tells her.

And so she does.

She runs away from the body like she ran from everything else.

Quickly, silently, making it seem as though she was never there, she runs away from the now dead body of her husband.

Her feet move easily and without fail.

She isn't breathing hard when she finishes her run.

Because she has been running for so long that it is perfectly natural to run away now.

She doesn't like to run, but she has to. She needs to.

She stops running finally. They've caught up with her.

They tell her it's going to be fine; they're just going to ask her some question.

So they lead her into a room filled with people.

There are twelve people on one side, one person up front, and there are too many people to count in the back of the room.

She has to promise to tell the through though, because if she lies, something might go wrong.

She doesn't want anything to go wrong, does she?

No, of course not. She'll tell them the truth.

And they proceed to talk about her husband.

She loves her husband, she really does.

But she hates that they are talking about him as though he is there, when he so clearly is not.

And her tears leak down her face, but the people asking the questions don't care.

They keep asking her question.

Their voices are hard now, not soft and friendly like before.

The questions are harder to answer now.

How is she supposed to know how much money was in her husband's bank account?

She doesn't.

At least, she didn't until then.

Does she know that she is the sole proprietor of her husband's will, and everything he owned goes to her?

No, actually, she doesn't. Why are you asking her this?

The questions are digging into her, they're tearing her slowly apart, bit by bit.

The questioners don't seem to mind that their questions bother her.

Some seem to enjoy it even.

And she is sobbing, rocking herself in the chair, begging them to stop the questions, please.

But the questions keep coming, harsher before, making her bleed from the inside.

And since the questions keep coming, she keeps sobbing.

"No more, please . . ." she begs as they continue asking her the questions that dig into her and slowly rip her into shreds of who she once was.

It hurts to think about her dead husband.

She wants to run away from the thoughts of him.

But they aren't letting her run away now.

They aren't letting her go anywhere now.

They keep asking questions, not caring that her clothes are wet not because of the rain, but because of her tears.

Not caring that she is shaking, not because of the cold, but because of her sobs.

The questions regard his death now.

How long was he like that when she found him?

And she can't stand it anymore, so she tries to run away from it all.

She stands and tried to push past the current questioner.

But he is a big man, stronger than she is, and she is shoved by into her seat.

But it does not matter any longer, because she cannot speak.

They let her go to a different chair, next to a man who promises that he is just here to help her.

She doesn't believe him,

But then again, she stopped believing in things a long time ago.

More people promise to tell the truth and sit down.

They answer questions about her husband, and some of them even answer questions about her.

Some of the people who are being questioned glare at her as they talk, but her mother smiles encouragingly at her from across the room.

She still doesn't know what's going on.

Finally, the man at the front of the room in the big chair stands up and calls for recess.

She remembers recess from her elementary school, and a part of her wonders if it is the same type of recess.

A part of her wonders where the tether ball court is.

She was always good at tether ball.

But a bigger part of her wonders what is going on.

She spends the recess asking questions, not that it matters.

None of the answers make any sense to her anyways.

At the end of the recess, two men come and pull her into the room where she answered the questions.

The man in the front of the room is standing.

She stands too, mostly because she hasn't been given a chair to sit in this time.

"This is the trial for Alison Angelina Munroe-Cooper, charged with the murder of her husband, the late Chad Dylan Cooper. The jury has reached a verdict. Alison Cooper is guilty of the murder of her late husband, Chad Dylan Cooper."

A collective gasp went up throughout the room.

"But due to Alison's current mental state, no sentence shall be given."

But no one heard the judge over her screams.


End file.
